I began life as a firstborn child. Thankfully, my parents had the foresight to give me a baby brother to assure that I would not live as an only child. They saw that I enjoyed him so much they soon gave me two more. I always had a great time playing with my three younger brothers, climbing trees, digging holes in the backyard, collecting worms and other such little boy stuff. But, being the kind of child who wanted all life had to offer, I eventually asked them for a little sister. They happily gave me one of those, too.
Today, in my mid-forties, I cannot imagine my life without my brothers and sister. The five of us, just over seven years apart from the first to the last, have been comrades since day one. We did all the things happy siblings do together. We rode our bikes every day, spent weekend nights sleeping outside under the stars, celebrated each other’s birthdays, taught one another how to do things, pushed each other around once in a while, fought about who got to sit by the window of the station wagon, played tricks on one another, tattled on one another, kept secrets for each other, and each night shared a home-cooked meal together at the same table with our parents.
We have at different times paired off into different combinations depending on our ages and the life challenges facing us at the moment. Still, we always managed to come back together regularly as a unified bunch. In spite of the years that have passed since we all left the nest of our childhood home, we have not lost the special bond which ties us together. We know this to be true because every time we return to our parents’ home and take our places on the front porch, laughter quickly erupts, teasing pours forth, occasionally a few happy tears flow, and we all linger there together until the very last minute before rising to go our separate ways. And, though we spend more time physically separated than together, we are always on one another’s minds. I know this, too, because we call each other often between visits.
My family of four travels with me when I go to my hometown to visit my parents and siblings. My daughter and step-daughter love to sit alongside me and witness these front porch reunions. This is when they have the pleasure of hearing far too many embarrassing stories about me, when they get to see me in a different, less serious light, and when they get to see how close I am to my family. It is also when, I hope, they are taking note of what rich rewards are waiting for them as they continue to develop their own sibling relationship.
You see, my child was an only child, and so was my step-daughter, until her mother and I married a little over a year ago. Prior to our marriage, my then fiancé and I independently felt some sorrow that our children had not yet enjoyed the experience of growing up with a sibling. As we moved closer to marriage, one of the benefits we looked forward to was the combining of our small families that would result in the girls becoming sisters to one another. In the beginning, the new family was a bit of a challenge for both of them. They suddenly were required to negotiate, take turns, share, compromise, and in some cases, not get exactly what they might have wanted. Although my wife and I were troubled by these little conflicts, we knew it was a necessary and important process for the girls to go through. We shared the belief that siblings give one another a richer context for personal growth than can be had as an only child. We knew that by bringing them together through our marriage, we were better preparing them for their adult lives.
As we move forward in the second year of the formation of our family, I see evidence that the girls in our house are indeed, coming together as siblings. While each retains many of her previous “only child” personal habits, they have also formed new ones, “sisterly” ones. They advise each other on what to wear, share their shoes, shop and get their nails done together, negotiate their plans for the weekend so both get a little of what they want, keep secrets for one another, tattle on one another, laugh aloud as they make fun of the adults in the house, and stick up for one another to make sure neither is left out of anything we might do. Recently one said she looked forward to the day she would become an aunt, a role not long ago she thought she would never get to play.
My brothers and sister have given me a lifelong feeling of continuity. They ground me in a history that keeps me humble, belonging, and appreciative. They provide me with companionship I can always count on and enjoy. They make me laugh. They give me the kind of love that cannot be found elsewhere. More recently, they are doing something for me they probably don’t even recognize. They have embraced my new family with enthusiasm, and treat my step-child as if she has been their niece all along. They help me to create for both these young girls an example of what wonders lie ahead for them as they move forward, as sisters. For this, I thank them. For this, I love them even more.
The photograph of five adults sitting on a columned porch later in this book is of us. The smiles on our faces are real; we were just teasing my two girls who were trying to help me pose that photograph. As you can see, we still have a great time when we are together.
